


does what you do make you happy?

by twitchwarning



Category: Foxboro Hot Tubs (Band), Green Day
Genre: Implied Relationships, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchwarning/pseuds/twitchwarning
Summary: the reverend twitch doesn't normally question how his job makes him feel. but once a man comes to him and asks a question, he starts to think a little differently.





	does what you do make you happy?

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Wrote a new oneshot about the Foxboro Hottubs characters, hope you enjoy!

“Keep my family, friends, and sister safe. Amen.” 

Reverend Strychnine Twitch held the rosary in his hands gently, mumbling the prayers quietly, as the reverend of a Catholic Church should. The prayer time wasn't exactly the most exciting time for him, but it had to be done. He kneeled there, gripping the rosary in his slim fingers until the sound of someone speaking to him was heard.

“Excuse me, Reverend, sir?”

“Can’t you see I’m praying? Have some respect.” He snapped angrily as he whipped his head around to face the intruder who dared interrupt his counsel with the Lord. He had to do this every day, the least he could have was to be able to do this alone and without someone else's intrusion.

Behind the Rev stood a lanky boy with blond hair, gangly limbs, and brown eyes. He seemed like a teenager, yet an air of adulthood surrounded him, the lack of childishness yet the amount of timidness he held was... intriguing. He stood there awkwardly, trying not to be scared of the angry Reverend that was currently yelling at him. 

“I’m- I’m sorry, sir, I truly didn't mean to interrupt your prayer time. I’ll go. And I won't bother you anymore, I promise.” The boy mumbled, and he turned to leave the chapel. 

His downtrodden look made the Rev feel a little bad about how he had treated the boy- he had just said his name, he might not even have known that the Rev does his prayers here every week. He hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“Wait.” The Rev said, holding a hand up.

The boy stopped in his tracks as the Rev stood up, placed the rosary in the special basket, and came over to him. 

“I’m sorry for being harsh with you, brother.” the Rev said in a kinder tone, looking at the boy. “What is your name?” 

“My name is Michelangelo.” the boy said quietly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, Reverend. I’m so sorry, I just wanted some advice and wasn't sure who else to ask... figured it couldn't hurt to talk to someone who's closer with God than I.” 

The Rev smiled at Michelangelo- somehow this person made him want to actually be nice for once. It was strange, normally he never wanted to be kind to others... but here he was, talking to a blond haired boy in the pew when he was supposed to be doing vigil.

"Michelangelo?" he inquired. "That's an interesting name. Not many Michelangelos nowadays."

"Yeah." the boy said sheepishly. "I figure it is... can blame my parents for that, I guess."

“Come sit.” He said, pointing to one of the congregation seats in the pew. "Let's talk."

Michelangelo paused for a second, staring at the seat.

"Well?" the Rev asked. "We're going to talk, aren't you going to sit?"

Michelangelo smiled, tentatively came over to where the Rev was beckoning, and sat down. 

“Now,” the Rev said, brushing off his pants, “What is burdening you, my brother?” 

Michelangelo sighed, then began to tell his tale. 

“I wish to be an musician when I grow up. But my parents, they say that God’s plan is for me to become a doctor. Yet I can hardly do science, even when I try.

"Blood makes me feel icky, and I hate administering needles- I guess my question is, how can it be God’s plan if I hate it so much?” 

The Reverend paused for a second, pondering Michelangelo's question, then he began. 

“Well… sometimes I think about the prophets in the bible.” 

Michelangelo looked at the Rev in confusion. "What?"

The Rev turned to the ceiling, which was full of stained glass art of biblical figures. He gestured to it and said, “Their parents definitely didn’t want them to be prophets. After all, who wants their child to constantly be away from home and in danger? But their children followed what they felt a calling to, and it was God’s plan. 

“I guess what I’m saying is that if you love it and know that it would make you happy, it’s God’s plan. Because He would never make a plan that makes you unhappy.” 

Michelangelo smiled. "Maybe you're right."

The Rev smiled at him. "Glad I could help. Have a good day."

He was about to get up when Michelangelo stopped him. “Reverend, may I ask you a question?"

The Rev sat down again. "Of course, Michelangelo. What is it you require?"

Michelangelo smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, looked the Rev in the eye, and asked his question.

"Reverend, _does what you do make you happy?”_

The Rev froze. Out of all of the questions, that was not one that he was expecting to have to answer.

Obviously he knew the answer, but it wasn't like he wanted to be honest... and yet, when it came to Michelangelo, he felt bad about not telling the man the truth. 

He sighed gently. “No. No, it doesn't.” 

Michelangelo frowned. “But why? Surely if it makes you unhappy it’s not God’s will?”

The Rev frowned at Michelangelo's usage of his own words, then sighed again. “Because my family wishes me to. It's what they want, so I have to do it.

"They’re the ones who sent me to school for it… I’m-i'm not even sure I believe in Him.”

Silence is what met the Rev after he had confessed- he looked up in slight fear at Michelangelo's caring smile.

Michelangelo put his hand on the Rev’s arm and looked at him with a kind look in his eyes. “Me too.” 

"And you know what?" Michelangelo said with a cheeky grin.

The Rev smiled a little. "What?"

Michelangelo grinned. "A wise person once told me that whatever makes you happy will certainly be God's will. And, y'know, I think he's on the right track."

He winked at the Rev and the Rev crossed his arms, a slight embarrassed blush spreading across his face.

Michelangelo got up and stretched his arms. “Well, I was about to go get some dinner at McDonalds...” He stuck his hand out to the Rev. "You wanna tag along?"

The Rev was about to say that he was in the middle of a holy fast- but what was the point of that?

Something about talking to Michelangelo had flipped a switch in his brain. It was almost like he should take his own advice, and after all, if he didn't follow his teachings, it would be rather hypocritical of him.

And frankly, he was hungry. What harm could some fries do?

“Of course.” He grinned, taking Michelangelo’s hand and pulling himself up to a standing position and grabbing his coat from the hook.

“By the way,” Michelangelo said as they were walking out to his car, “what do they call you when you’re not ‘The Rev’?” 

The Rev took a breath. “Well I normally don't like to tell people-"

He watched as Michelangelo's face fell at his words, and he sighed quietly.

"Twitch." He replied. "They call me Twitch.” 

“Twitch.” Michelangelo said, trying it out. “Hmmmm.... I like it.” 


End file.
